When stuff happens to the Toronto Maple Leafs, it's always writ large. That's the way it has to be—it's the Maple Leafs, and it's Toronto, and it's Canada, and it's hockey. So, a three-goal, third-period collapse in a Game 7 is bound to hit hard.

A little after the Boston Bruins eliminated the Leafs on Monday night, we asked for fan reaction on Twitter. It wasn't meant to embarrass, and it's not an opportunity to gawk. It's a window into a fan base that's passionate and smart and gigantic and starved for success. If you're not a hockey fan, imagine the Yankees going 46 years and counting without a title.

Sports fandom is all arbitrary. Deep down, we all know that these men for whom we cheer, boo and care in no way represent our lives or even the cities where they play half their games. Fandom is usually genetic, and it's always luck. Sometimes your one team of thirty does some good work over the course of a few weeks or months, and this random noise makes sense, feels right, encourages more devotion. But mostly it's nights like tonight, where I'm forced to look at the howling emptiness of why I care so much, and why I'll mindlessly throw myself into the flames again next fall.

Ian

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My first memories of the Leafs were from the Mats Sundin/Tie Domi/Darcy Tucker era. I find that time period relevant because it's taken at least that long to find a decent goalie. (Luckily, Reimer came into his own this season and ended that unfortunate tradition.) To cut to the heart of the matter: watching the leafs blow a three goal lead in Game 7 with less than half a period to go was heart wrenching, and I'll tell you why. I had convinced myself that I was so used to this team missing the playoffs that not making it to the second round didn't matter. Watching them crumble in the third period taught me that watching your team rise and fall so quickly is worse than not seeing them rise at all. The Toronto Maple Leafs are the biggest money-making sports franchise in hockey, and they have the fans to prove it. We rise as one, and we fall as one. And when we fall, it comes as a crashing blow physically, mentally, and emotionally. Let's hope we can get this team to rise again. We've been waiting since 1967. Leafs Nation.

Christina Ferma

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Expected Four Games

Heartbreaker for James Reimer

Phil Over Tyler.

John Paul

(Ed.'s note: This is a haiku.)

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My awakening as a Leafs fan occurred in 1987, when at the tender age of eight, I watched a Maple Leafs team win a single playoff series and lose disappointingly in the second round. If had been older, I might have realized the Leafs were terrible and were briefly lucky. Instead, I got hooked.

Since then, this team has been a fountain of heartache.

The Maple Leafs are a machine. The machine churns out a product that bleeds for its audience, and its audience bleeds right back at it. Perpetual Emotion exists, and it is our Toronto Maple Leafs. For years and years I have had to find ways to be hopeful. This year is nowhere close to being the nadir of that hope.

But on a day-to-day basis, what keeps me going is the schadenfreude. Why are we so terrible? Let me count the ways.

I'm bitter tonight. Tomorrow, perhaps I can look on the positives, of which there are several, possibly more so than at any point in the last nine years. Tonight, I will obsess on the fact that this was possibly the worst collapse I have ever witnessed. This team truly raised my hopes before crushing them like no other.

Jimmy

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(Ed.'s note: Redacted video of George Carlin's Seven Dirty Words)

Brad

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(Ed's note: Brad came back with this a little later)

On a lighter note, I actually thought of this as well:

Brad

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I told my friends they couldn't come over to watch because the Leafs were 3-1 when I watched alone; I didn't put my jersey on until 7:58PM ADT just like every game (except Game 6 when I had to wait until 8:28); wore the same shoes I had accidentally left on during Game 6; rejected the red jumbo freezie my fiancée handed to me, because the Leafs were 0-1 in playoff games where I had eaten while watching; crossed my right leg over my left on the coffee table and vice versa, depending on which way the Leafs were shooting that period; held back a cough any time there was a close-up shot of a Leaf (this cough actually started around Game 1)… But right before the Bruins' second goal, I got up to go to the window with my dog to see what he was barking at. I blame myself. I think my dog does too.

Evan

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Just when you thought the knife couldn't be wedged any further into the hearts of Leafs fans, last night happened.

To think that this underdog, inexperienced Leafs team could hold on to a three-goal lead against the big, bad, dominant Bruins was, in retrospect, a practice in naïveté. We had tempted fate in Game 5 and 6, taking two-goal leads into the final 10 minutes of both games, only to have our advantage cut in half each time. Spending the dying minutes of games with whitened knuckles, gritted teeth and heart palpitations had become all too familiar, so looking back on things, why is it any surprise that Game 7 would be any different?

It was surprising because we allowed ourselves to believe for the first time in a very long time that things would be different. That's what hurts the most. Tonight our team of Charlie Browns would finally kick that football. Like receiving a "Thank You" after your first "I Love You", this is the sort of event that turns vulnerability into jadedness.

It tears away at my soul to write this. While I had no delusions about the Leafs winning the cup, and had Boston in six at the beginning of the playoffs, they made me believe again. G------ them for making me believe.

Mark Norman

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Three years ago, Boston lost a series after being up 3-0. They won the Cup the next year. Baring some drastic improvements at defense/first-line center, the Leafs are not winning the Cup next year. Which unfortunately means the collapse tonight may very well end up defining this team. Will they learn from it? Sure. But as Boston's implosion of three years ago proved, a drastic collapse will haunt a team for a very long time. And most of the strides taken by the Leafs while forcing a Game 7, were undone by the colossal collapse that ended it.

Dominika H.

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I'm not sure how long it is going to take before I stop thinking about Reimer face down on the ice after the overtime goal. It's heartbreaking to think that after his amazing season, getting the Leafs to the playoffs, getting them to Game 7, all the incredible stops he made, that's the goal he's going to remember. That's the goal that the media and fans are going to rake him over the coals for. I wish he could be proud of himself and I hope he is, even though we all wanted a different result.

Becca

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I thought I did everything. I wore the same Sundin jersey I wore for Game 5 and 6. I didn't drink, as I didn't for the previous Leafs wins, and I refused to watch with my father as I think he's bad luck.

Then I made a critical error. Yesterday, I was at the ACC and ate sushi between the 2nd and the third period. Today, I had sushi in the fridge but chose not to eat it. It's all my fault.

What can I say? I've been a Leafs fan for as long as I can remember and nothing has hurt this much. No amount of "well they gained valuable experience" or "they took the Bruins to the limit" talk, can erase the feeling of seeing a three-goal lead evaporate in 10 minutes. They deserved a better outcome, but until they learn how to close out a game and play a full 60 minutes, we as a fan base will never be rid of this empty feeling. Who knows, maybe it is inexperience, I hope it is because that's an easy fix. Either way, I think after nine years of living in the hockey equivalent of the Dark Ages in Toronto, we finally have a team that we can be proud of, and it can only go up from here.

John M.

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I didn't like Boston winning the game 5-4 in overtime. I was mad how the Leafs lost. It made me feel mad. I'm thinking that they're going to make the playoffs next year. I am going to be mad for awhile.